The Weekend: Nothing unites the masses like a deeply embarrassing man
'Each day on twitter there is one main character. The goal is to never be it.' This tweet from 2019 plays out in my head every time someone, anyone, becomes the main character of the day in New Zealand.
Twitter in 2019 moved fast, and the main character from Monday, where tens of thousands of people were dunking on them, could very well be forgotten by Wednesday.
This week, Ray Chung proved that in New Zealand, if you're embarrassing enough you could be the main character for a whole lot longer. If you aren't across the Chung train wreck, congratulations and stay blessed. If you are, you may have clocked that he managed to embarrass himself every step of the way. And nothing unites the masses like a deeply embarrassing man.
There was the first rumour, sure. Embarrassing to fall for a schoolyard rumour when you're seven decades into life but not the greatest sin in the world. Then the refusal to apologise. Then the blaming of other councillors and media for quoting his own words in public. Then the being owned by would-be ally Sean Plunket live on air. Then the shambles campaign event. This man just cannot stop being embarrassing.
Ray Chung is Drake in the Drake vs Kendrick beef. Except there's no Kendrick. Or maybe Kendrick is the semblance of common sense.
Ray Chung is Drake, and I have never gladly thought about Drake in my life. Here's hoping for a new main character next week, for everyone's sake.
The stories Spinoff readers spent the most time with this week
A rare and compelling example of Main Character syndrome lasting a whole week.
Feedback of the week
'I wish they'd de-extinct Jaffas, Snifters and Tangy Fruits instead. The biodiversity of the cinema snack bar has been severely depleted in recent years and introduced species like M&Ms have multiplied out of control. How are we to enjoy Sir Peter's next film (if he ever makes one, he seems to have gone off it a bit as of late) without the proper sweeties to complement it?'
'I once lived on an island which had a population of eight. Things got out of hand in the birthday celebration department and individual inhabitants had to be restricted to one celebration per annum.'
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The Spinoff
18-07-2025
- The Spinoff
The Weekend: Nothing unites the masses like a deeply embarrassing man
Madeleine Chapman reflects on the week that was. 'Each day on twitter there is one main character. The goal is to never be it.' This tweet from 2019 plays out in my head every time someone, anyone, becomes the main character of the day in New Zealand. Twitter in 2019 moved fast, and the main character from Monday, where tens of thousands of people were dunking on them, could very well be forgotten by Wednesday. This week, Ray Chung proved that in New Zealand, if you're embarrassing enough you could be the main character for a whole lot longer. If you aren't across the Chung train wreck, congratulations and stay blessed. If you are, you may have clocked that he managed to embarrass himself every step of the way. And nothing unites the masses like a deeply embarrassing man. There was the first rumour, sure. Embarrassing to fall for a schoolyard rumour when you're seven decades into life but not the greatest sin in the world. Then the refusal to apologise. Then the blaming of other councillors and media for quoting his own words in public. Then the being owned by would-be ally Sean Plunket live on air. Then the shambles campaign event. This man just cannot stop being embarrassing. Ray Chung is Drake in the Drake vs Kendrick beef. Except there's no Kendrick. Or maybe Kendrick is the semblance of common sense. Ray Chung is Drake, and I have never gladly thought about Drake in my life. Here's hoping for a new main character next week, for everyone's sake. The stories Spinoff readers spent the most time with this week A rare and compelling example of Main Character syndrome lasting a whole week. Feedback of the week 'I wish they'd de-extinct Jaffas, Snifters and Tangy Fruits instead. The biodiversity of the cinema snack bar has been severely depleted in recent years and introduced species like M&Ms have multiplied out of control. How are we to enjoy Sir Peter's next film (if he ever makes one, he seems to have gone off it a bit as of late) without the proper sweeties to complement it?' 'I once lived on an island which had a population of eight. Things got out of hand in the birthday celebration department and individual inhabitants had to be restricted to one celebration per annum.'
The Spinoff
15-07-2025
- The Spinoff
The shocking truth behind the death of Jaffas
Claire Mabey uncovers a giant Jaffas conspiracy. 'You don't know what you've got til it's gone.' – Joni Mitchell in a song that was later covered by Counting Crows. 'You don't know what you've got til you realise you never had it.' – Claire Mabey Content warning: What I am about to tell you will change everything you think you know. Please continue with care. They're small and round and tinged with citrus. They're like marbles, only opaque, and not made of glass. Some people bite right into them like the cave men before us while others prefer to suck them slowly until the outer shell is compromised and eventually melts away to reveal the chocolate orange centre which also melts and becomes a tiny hot chocolate made with your own spit. I, like many New Zealanders, like to indulge in a Jaffa at the movies. It's a reliable, comfortable habit in a reliable, comfortable place. There's the popcorn, and the Jaffas, and the pineapple lumps and there's the previews and the dark room and the giant screen. In fact that's the only place I have ever eaten Jaffas other than the odd one offered up for free with a long black – a lovely little gesture that felt like something that was just ours. A solitary treat-Jaffa given by the kind of cafe you could take your nana to. When I heard that RJ's was going to stop making Jaffas I discovered I was upset (though it was nothing compared to when Pascall stopped making Snifters). Isn't there enough change in this world? Aren't we losing so much already? The climate? Species? Why take away our movie treats too? This question weighed heavy on my mind when I went to my local cinema, purchased my ticket to Jurassic Park: Rebirth, and a small white bag of Jaffas. As ScarJo and Jonathan Bailey dodged the grotesque mutant dinosaur and told each other that 99.9% of species are now extinct, I took comfort in sucking approximately 12 Jaffas so slowly they lasted almost the whole film. When the film was over I shuffled out of the dark cocoon and into the light with my empty little white paper bag in my hand (screwed up and sweaty thanks to the dinosaurs). I walked it to the rubbish bin closest to the counter and said to the cinema worker who was tidying up some empty water glasses: 'It'll be weird not to have Jaffas soon, eh?' The young woman stared at me with a quizzical look. I'd said something wrong. 'You know, Jaffas?' I said and pointed to the row of plump little white paper bags filled with Jaffas in front of her on the counter. RJ's Jaffas in little white paper bags. 'Oh, yeah well actually we use Choc Orange Balls.' Silence as I stared back, my heart giving odd little skips. 'What are those?' 'Choc Orange Balls? You can get them from Moore Wilson's.' Choc Orange Balls? I stared at the bin. At the sad little paper bag lying there. All this time? I've been eating 'Choc Orange Balls'? Have they always been Choc Orange Balls? Have I ever eaten an actual Jaffa? An actual RJ's Jaffa? Have any of us? I was shaken. Had I just inadvertently uncovered a massive conspiracy? Or was I simply the last one to know that there are off-brand Jaffas out there in the world masquerading as actual Jaffas? Determined to uncover the truth I pulled on my coat, pushed my way through the crowd and out onto the cold Wellington street. Everything looked different. Shop fronts, street signs … the air itself felt … colder. I took my usual shortcut through the carpark and down the side street to where Moore Wilson's sat smugly like Wellington's most Wellingtonian home of fresh produce and fancy breads and Ottolenghi products and freshly squeezed orange juice that people will literally line up for 30mins to get on a Saturday and that you can't get at all when there's flooding in Tairāwhiti. I knew I'd never seen Jaffas at Moore Wilson's before. At least not on the produce side. But what about the bulk purchases side? That's where I once bought a carton of Spacemen and a massive tube of 100 Chuppa Chups. Could that be where these 'Choc Orange Balls' lived? I held my breath as I slipped past the lanes of checkout workers and past the boxes of generically packaged lollies to the tall shelves where the branded bulk lollies were arranged. And there they were. Bold as brass. A huge box of red and brown bags with a small Moore Wilson's product sign below them: 'Confectionary House Chocolate Orange Balls 1kg. $24.70 / Ea.' The lady at the movies was telling the truth. Here they were right in front of me. Choc Orange Balls. I picked up a bag and inspected the contents through the window of clear packaging. Small, orange balls. Like marbles but opaque. I flipped the bag over and read and as I did my world came crashing down. 'Handmade by our artisan confectioners right here in Australia.' Oh. My. GOD. Australians. They hadn't even tried to give them a cool name. Just Choc Orange Balls. Like something out of South Park. As I stood there in front of a wall of lollies in Moore Wilson's, a bag of Choc Orange Balls heavy in my arms, I asked myself how long this had been going on? Who else was slipping into Moore Wilson's to buy pretend Jaffas in bulk and hawking them as the real deal? Maybe this was a one-off. Maybe this cinema just didn't even really know? Maybe there was an Australian in charge with Australian tastes? I grabbed a bag, paid $24.75 for it and got the number 29 home. Wellington has many cinemas. They're part of what makes our city great. When it's windy and shit you go to the movies and you eat Jaffas, real Jaffas, and chew them up with your popcorn so you get sweet-savoury at the same time. I got out my coloured post-its and wrote down the names of all the cinemas I could remember and stuck them on the wall in my office. One by one I phoned them. 'Hi, do you sell Jaffas?' 'Oh pretty sure we sell an off-brand Jaffa,' the guy on the other side said, and laughed. WHAT. 'So, like, what do you sell?' 'Hold on, I'll just go check.' My heart was pounding, my pits were oozing, and I was shovelling Choc Orange Balls while I waited like they're the ones going out of fashion. 'You there?' 'Yup.' 'We sell Choc Orange Balls.' 'Do you put them in little white paper bags?' 'Yes.' 'What do you call them?' 'Ah. Um … why do you ask?' 'Do you call them Jaffas?' Suddenly he was suspicious. He knew I was investigating. 'Why are you asking?' I slammed the phone down. I pulled the post-it with the name of that cinema off my wall and screwed it up and tossed it into the bin just like that little white paper bag that had never seen a Jaffa. I called up the next cinema, trying to keep calm while my mind raced. 'Hi, do you sell Jaffas?' 'Yep.' 'RJ's Jaffas that are Jaffas? Or do you sell something else?' 'We get Choc Orange Balls from Dandy Candy in Petone.' Dandy Candy? 'What's Dandy Candy?' 'A distributor.' 'Thanks,' I said, scribbling it down. 'And before I let you go can I just ask if you sell your Choc Orange Balls in little white paper bags?' 'Yes we do.' God damn it. I put the phone down and stared at my notes. Dandy? Candy? It sounded like an off brand version of that terrifying Candyland board game where the gingerbread man has to run through lolly streets to escape certain death. I turned to Google. 'Dandy Candy NZ lollies distributor'. And there it was. Not Dandy but Dandi. Of course. There were rows and rows of branded treats: Cadbury, Pascall, The Natural Confectionary Company. I gingerly clicked into the search bar and typed, 'Choc Orange Balls'. An image of bright red-orange balls burst onto my screen. Not even any packaging, just naked balls spilling everywhere, some broken into rubble with their innards exposed like they'd been chewed and callously spat out. It was true. Everything the cinema people had told me was true. At the top of the screen was a phone number. Just a cell number, not even an 0800. Who knows where this string of digits would lead me next. I took a deep breath, dialled it and waited with my heart hammering in my ears. Ilesh Patel answered and what I didn't know then was that this conversation would fundamentally change me as a person. What Patel told would transform my understanding of how lollies worked in this country; in this world. DandiCandy is a family-owned and run licensed candy wholesaler that has been operating in the Wellington region for nearly 25 years. Patel has 480 customers including supermarkets, dairies, Air New Zealand, Kiwi Rail, and yes, cinemas. And Patel distributes 30 brands including RJ's and its Jaffas. 'It's a big loss,' he told me, 'but there's always someone bringing in something else.' 'Like the Choc Orange Ball?' I asked. Patel confirmed that they sell a lot of Choc Orange Balls but what he told me next blew my mind and made the decimated Choc Orange Ball now acidifying in my belly start to riot. 'The difference between Choc Orange Balls and Jaffas is that Choc Orange Balls are made out of compound chocolate.' What in the fresh hell?? I flipped over the Choc Orange Balls packet in front of me and read the ingredients list: 'Compound Dark Chocolate' was the first item. It's not even buried – it's just right there. God Damn It! Is this like the friends episode where Monica has to make recipes out of Mocklit? I put Patel on speaker and frantically googled. 'Compound chocolate is a product made from a combination of cocoa, vegetable fat and sweeteners. It is used as a lower-cost alternative to pure chocolate ('whole chocolate' is natural raw chocolate that contains cocoa butter) as it has less-expensive hard vegetable fats such as coconut oil or palm kernel oil in place of the more expensive cocoa butter,' says Wikipedia. 'So it's not even real chocolate?' I asked. No, he said. No it's not. What Patel explained to me next I can only relay in fragments and I'm sorry about it but I was reeling. I felt sick from all the compound chocolate in the Choc Orange Balls. But what he told me was that in essence we are just too small to sustain the Jaffa, or the Snifter, or the solitary packaged Chocolate Fish, or the god damn Toffee Milk! (I cried out as a core memory of buying five Toffee Milks for 50 cents from my local dairy shunted forth and stabbed me with its nostalgia.) Australian companies like The Confectionary House are just too big. They're too powerful and what they dictate, we have to follow. Patel then told me that RJ's was sold to an Australian company in 2015 and what could be going on is actually it's the Australian parent company that doesn't want the Jaffa and we're just too small to … WHAT? I put my head in my hands (Patel was still on speaker). Not. Even. Locally. Owned? RJ's is Australian? What ISN'T Australian? When is this going to stop? When are they going to stop? God damn it! 'Are you there?' I apologised to Patel and explained I just needed a second to compute the enormity of what he'd told me. He asked me then if I remembered the giant Jaffa. And I don't. I don't remember it because maybe it was too brief. Or maybe there never really was a giant Jaffa, just a giant Choc Orange Ball sold in a white paper bag. Have I ever even eaten an actual Jaffa with its real chocolate and expensive fat? Will Australia ever stop taking stuff we really like even if we don't actually buy it that often? All I know is that I have been eating Choc Orange Balls for a long time. I think a lot of us have been eating Choc Orange Balls for a long time. 'That's so much for your time, Ilesh,' I say. I put my phone down and stare at the packet in front of me. I glance up at my post-it wall. There is one cinema left. I pick up my phone once more, unsure if I am emotionally ready for whatever might come next, and dial the number. 'Hi, do you sell Jaffas?' 'Yes! Jaffas are the bomb!' I'm wary. 'OK, but are they RJ's Jaffas called Jaffas by RJ's?' 'Yes! I'm going to really miss them. I love them.' Bless you, angel. 'When they're gone, will you go for an alternative, like… the Choc Orange Ball, have you heard of those?' 'No, but we probably won't replace them.' 'Why not? Don't people buy Jaffas?' 'Nah not really. They just get M&Ms.'
The Spinoff
11-07-2025
- The Spinoff
The Weekend: I can't stop thinking about this ad
Madeleine Chapman reflects on the week that was. It's either a sign I'm scraping the bottom of the vibes barrel or a sign that I'm choosing to find joy in unexpected places but last weekend I found myself utterly captivated, impressed and moved(?!) by a billboard. To be clear, I have high standards for creative consumerism. I hate that we all just have to accept we'll be surrounded by ads all the time, and therefore feel personally insulted when it feels like that privilege – the privilege corporations have in demanding our attention – is taken for granted. When I see a grotesque and lazy Grimace ad, I will complain about it. Yesterday I saw someone opt, at the last minute, to wait for another bus because their one had the garish police wrap on it. I applauded that stranger. Nothing signals a recession like advertising agencies phoning it in or pitching (likely out of necessity) the most low-effort campaigns imaginable. Digital billboards mean I see six meh ads at the traffic lights instead of one. My expectations for some creative flair on a sign are nil. And then last week, as I waited at the Newton Road offramp lights, I saw this: That's it. Just an ad for a medicinal cannabis clinic. I have no need for medicinal cannabis and won't be buying any now but I laughed out loud when I saw this and then yelled 'good ad!' in the car like a child. It's a grabby billboard that takes a quietly understood visual and makes a point with it. And it looks cool. Technically the campaign is about destigmatising cannabis use for medicinal purposes but ultimately it's an ad and an effective one at that. But what moved me was the real-life presence of it. It's tangible and has to have been man-made. If I have to look at a big ad, it's mildly comforting to know that someone actually put it there. People all over the world still talk about the New Zealand ads for Kill Bill from 20 years ago. AI is unavoidable at this point, and so many creative outputs (read: ads but also art, music, literature) feel either written by AI, designed with AI or at least deployed with little human touch. Giant screens that can be edited with the push of a button are cost-effective but never make me think about real people – even though there are very real people putting ads out in the world. I looked at those giant Chucks and wondered how they were made, what they were made of, how they were transported and how they were installed. For the first time in years I saw an ad and immediately thought fondly of the real human effort behind it. Is that inspiring or depressing? I'm still not sure. The stories Spinoff readers spent the most time with this week Outrageous Week's wonderful opener, The birth of the Wests: How Outrageous Fortune came to be by Tara Ward Hayden Donnell's open letter to Jacinda Ardern on open letters to Jacinda Ardern Local Liam Rātana returns to the far north to visit the country's new supreme cafe and sees a half-frozen pie It's once again time to ignore our crumbling infrastructure and pass the rates bills on to the next generation. Hayden Donnell on things that make people mad Auckland councillor Julie Fairey has always advocated for improved road safety – then she got hit by a car Feedback of the week 'Could we all please collectively take a moment to pause and appreciate the guy rocking the marijuana shirt in the back row of the fourth/bottom photo?' On What it's like to go blind at 25 'Bloody wonderful article, Oscar. My dads blind- started in his 30's, like his mum. It's always been far away future for me until it wasn't – on the cusp on 30 and suddenly I can't see shit. Weird, lonely experience – thanks for making it less so.'
